Unmei Hiku
by ChibiKillerPanda
Summary: I never asked to be in the Naruto World, but since when do I ever get what I ask for? I'm Koori Hana - and this is my story.
1. Enter: Koori Hana

_**Unmei Hiku  
**_**"Destined to Fade" - **_**but to where?**_

**A/N: I know I probably shouldn't be starting a new series, but I realized where I went wrong in my last… so, my last series "Evanescent" is pretty much a test run and for humor purposes. Though, for readers that may or may not stalk my stories – I'm not ditching Evanescent yet XD I'm just starting a new story, and taking experiences from my previous one to try and make this as epic as I can. **

**This will start out in a fictional city I create – so if you don't recognize it, then please remember this little tidbit of information. Other than that, the fictional city I create will still be on Earth – after I go into the Naruto world with the upcoming chapters, expect it to stay strictly canon! The city of Megiddo is actually an epic version of Tokyo… you can definitely see my love of Japan in that XD I don't know Japanese much at all, so that's why this isn't based in Tokyo. **

**Warning: This is rated for a reason, whether it's upcoming lemons, Hidan's mouth, or violence; read at your own risk of sanity and innocence. Also, another warning… instead of how light my last humor fic was, this will be very dark at the beginning – but not for long! I'll dish out the morbid humor later, but for now… bring out the horror and release the Fanfiction hellhounds!**

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Have you ever wondered what it felt like?

To feel as though you lived in solitude, to feel as though you are pathetically insignificant despite your efforts to fit in with something called 'normal.' To be treated like a total freak for wearing a little too much black and loving art instead of sports and fashion, to have something that you never asked for and for people to label you as stupid and weird for it.

I never asked for this; I never asked to lose my hearing, I never asked to be judged repeatedly over and over again. I never asked have people talk extra slow to me because to them apparently deaf means being stupid.

Don't mistake me for some kid who crawls up in her corner and cries; I find that moving on works much better than self pity and tears. Despite the odds being pushed against me I'll fight and walk forwards with my head held high, because if not I'd be ashamed to be called Koori Hana. My dreams have been shattered repeatedly, but what's the use of letting the pieces just remain broken and lifeless? The only one who can stop you from reaching your dreams is yourself; ignore the people who try to bring you down and get stronger so you don't lose what you hold closest. That is who I am, and that is what I live by; my name is Koori Hana, and I won't _let_ myself fall.

I'm just too stubborn for that.

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**Opening inspired by J'Lostein's "Wishing Stars" – check her out (:**

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I guess when my parents named me they couldn't have been more correct; an ice flower, frozen in the night until its beauty is faded by the light. Only metaphorically speaking of course - but I guess that's what I am; a gothic red head who stands out in the crowd like a flare, her true fiery, friendly personality overshadowed by the preps and the people who just simply judge her for who she looks like rather than who she is. Whoever knew that parents could be so dead on at times, where the stereotypical parents name their children names that just don't fit?

Like a guy whose name is Bob yet he looks like he should be named Fred – well, I guess I could come up with a better example, but you get my point.

Although my name is Japanese for ice, _Koori_, my personality and appearance are far from ice-like – think of a raging fire contained by a thick, ever present sheet of black, bleak ice; luminescent colours trapped underneath a gloomy, unreachable surface, aesthetic reds and vibrant oranges covered by something that just doesn't belong yet somehow manages to coexist in harmony. And then you'd get a Koori Hana in the flesh. Isn't that just exciting?

No, not really exciting at all. But let's not get carried away, shall we?

Emerald green orbs pass wide eyed through the crowd, my white teeth nibbling my lower, pouty lip nervously – _where did he go?_ My breath came out in ragged gasps while I tried to catch up to my frantically beating heart, my lungs screaming for air after running for so long and so quickly without stopping to catch a breather. Yes, I am in pursuit – at one of the worst times, mind you.

My clothing would have usually caught odd stares or maybe even a few snickers on any other day, but oh no – today is a special day that is shunned by some, and loved by others. Usually the little kids, but that's not the point. With my candy bag long forgotten, you can guess what day it is – _Halloween._ Where the sparkly vampire wannabes come out to play and Twilight haters come out with pitchforks of fury, and cosplayers can cosplay without having to risk their inner pride from snobby preppy teenage snobs.

Indeed, I had dressed up as something for Halloween – Kushina from Naruto. She may not be the most popular character, but you'd be surprised on how much the Uzumaki female looked like me, down to the fiery red hair. Baggy dark orange sleeves hung from my shoulders, attached to a high-neck black shirt with the Uzumaki clan symbol engraved on the chest, reaching down just below my ribcage to reveal naturally tanned belly. At the neck was a cheap plastic version of the Konoha Leaf symbol, scratched out much to my disdain – the only one available at the nearest manga store was unfortunately Itachi's leaf headband, but I didn't mind it too much… it isn't like I'm going to meet an actual ninja loyal to Konoha, now am I?

If only I knew the truth of this one, special night.

To match the shirt, on my legs were black yoga pants that were surprisingly comfortable and easy to move inside, with three inch white bandage on the left thigh twice, with a brief space of black fabric in between white. The only things to shatter the image of a ninja straight from Kishimoto's epic manga were my purple converse – look, another thing that is inseperable from me!

Turning, I could feel my breath moving in quick gasps to tear from my lungs and out my pouty lips, before inhaling sweet oxygen once more, everything silent aside from the vibrations of movement around me and the hum of faint, yet present noise. I hated being inside of large crowds; noise was so hard to pinpoint with my nearly nonexistent hearing, and lips were hard to read from the fact that you had to either _keep moving_ or _be moved._

To some being inside of a crowd while being in pursuit could be a haven, but to some other special people it could be hell; I may be hidden, but for how long? I wouldn't be able to hear a shout of my name unless if I could see his lips moving to form the simple Japanese words, but even then it would be too late.

_Too late…_

I should have never stepped into that silent cemetery with my best friend just to prove to her that zombies just don't exist, only to be separated through the seemingly endless rows of stones to the dead. At one point I had arrived at the oldest section of the graveyard; the area where the dead would have no visitors. Now, why, I wonder? Maybe it has to do with them pushing on their 150s and sleeping with Kisame… er, the fish.  
Creepily darkened, green vines had clung to the dirt covered stones, reminding me of some cheesy horror film from the 80s; the heroine screaming in terror always got an eye-roll and amused smirk out of me, though in real life her reaction was pretty reasonable. I mean, who _couldn't_ yell in terror when a figure came running at you carrying a weapon of some sort?

Unfortunately that's exactly what happened. Que: scream of terror and an epic oh-no! expression of pure, paralyzing fear.

Running through the streets of Megiddo City to avoid my pursuer, I only now wish I had gotten a good look at him – it was almost as if I could feel his eyes on me now that I had stopped in the Shopping District, watching me and waiting for the right moment to strike. What would happen then? Would I be killed, or raped?

The thought sent shivers running through my spine – I'd rather take death over that anytime. Give me Desperate Housewives, Hannah Montana… heck, even the horrid Justin Beiber! I'd rather endure those tortures from hell itself _twice_ than have my body touched by some perverted, sick stranger.

The more morbid part of my mind wanted to laugh at my insanely amazing luck (gasp, more sarcasm!), only to be pushed away by a frantic attempt to gain control of my mind and find a way to escape here, to get as far away as possible or get a taxi to drive me to my home. It was just too bad that I had dropped my wallet along with my candy bag at the cemetery…

_Shit._

Emerald orbs widened as I pushed past people, ignoring what might have been shouts of disapproval if I could hear them. If that guy went back and found my wallet, he could find my student ID… which couldn't possibly go down well at all if I wanted to get home un-stalked. Now, what is a young girl of only the age 13 doing with a student ID? It comes with being in one of the best Deaf Schools in America; instead of going through the trouble of verbally explaining that I'm deaf and lost in a voice that I can't even hear all I had to do was flash my ID and then presto! Problem mostly solved. Key word: mostly.

Heart beating loud enough that I could feel its delicious feeling beating in my reluctant ears, for some reason reminding me of a drum; each vibration coming from my chest made me want to stop and listen to the delicious feeling of almost being able to hear _music_ again, the thought making my heart squeeze painfully. If there is any form of art that I'd love to have back, it'd definitely be music – my favorite form of art next to sketching.

The feeling of an arm abruptly grabbing my right shoulder pulled me out of my thoughts of escape and art, causing me to turn around to face what was definitely a man. Emerald green orbs probed his face, widening as my mouth fell open in a silent _O_ of unspoken terror. At one point of our little dandy stroll in the cemetery – don't you just _love_ my sarcasm? – I had managed to trip him to his feet, causing him to faceplant in the ground with what I hope and wish was a grunt, giving me enough time to make my fleeting escape. Barely.

Now I stood face to face with a mud covered man, his nearly black eyes boring into mine in one expression that I never saw before – more than hate. Murderous intent, scarred by a sadistic smile tugging at his ugly lips.

"No…" I formed, the words clumsily leaving my lips though not reaching my unwelcoming ears. With the smirk and tightening grip on my arm that I had been so graciously rewarded with, I must have said it loud enough – but not so loud as to get someone from the crowd to help me.

Now that I notice it, the crowd _is_ thinning…

His tongue licked his dry lips before they moved, my eyes instinctively drawn to see what he had been saying – _"aw, are you scared?" _I made out of the way his lips moved, though it was hard to make out; lips were easier to read in solitude, through what little hearing my ears still had to offer.

Now, please don't call me stupid for this – I blame it on my nonexistent evil twin for these urges of pissing people off, which more or less succeed almost without fail. So, what did I do to respond to his sadistic chiding?

That's right – I spat on his face, the saliva making a small portion of mud slip off his face before falling to its inevitable doom of the cobblestone road beneath our feet. His expression moved from brief, evanescent shock to downright pissed off, his eyes being the last thing I saw before I had taken advantage of his surprise by suddenly jerking from his grasp and running. And when I say run, I mean _run._

I'm not athletic – I'm an artist. Meaning right now my thighs burned from the attempt of long strides with my short legs, my chest constricting to show that it hadn't been given a good enough rest before coming in use again. _Screw you, Chesty!_ I thought for not coming up with a better insult to my lungs, pushing past an unfortunate trick-or-treater and trying to push him behind me in the direction of my pursuer, hopefully buying me at least a few seconds of time. Lucky for me, this certain trick-or-treater was around six feet and in a sheet with two holes cut in it for eyes, meaning I didn't have to have a guilty conscience of hurting a little kid.

Hey, the teenager was probably going to jump some kid and take his candy, anyway! I'm not too cruel, am I?

No… please don't answer that.

This must have bought me some time, but barely; the teenager looked scrawny despite his height, so he would have practically crumbled beneath my pursuer's mass. Heck, I never even got a good look at him other than his face – only an outline, and judging from that, he is big – and it's not all whale blubber, either, because he is pretty damn _fast._

Though either I had an inner Kenyan hiding somewhere deep within me, or my little distraction worked – if not for a brief moment. Though, apparently that had been all that was needed; turning a corner sharply I nearly lost my footing, emerald green eyes widening momentarily before tearing down the deserted, cement path.  
Just my luck; the shopping district is usually bustling all throughout the night _and_ day, though on Halloween it tends to die down after midnight. Still, shouldn't there at least be someone down here? Or is this guy some super genius with enough charisma to make others stay away from a certain area?

Puh-lease; I really need to stop watching anime – the impossible is starting to rub off on me. Lovely.

Soon it clicked, somewhere inside my panic-ridden and exhausted mind; parks are always something that is avoided in the middle of the night for the weak, timid, or just _smart_ people. Hence what this little place I stumbled upon is; the dirt path soon gave way to common cement, lit by the strong moonlight overhead giving it the eerie appearance of a silver path beneath my converse. Weeping willows blew with a chilly breeze that couldn't quite reach my reluctant ears, the wind caressing my face before giving way to chill and the scent of water.

It's actually quite funny, really; this situation is so cliché. The heroine runs from a graveyard after being chased by someone who might be either homeless or undead (possibly both) and then after finding a crowd she runs into solitude with a convenient dark lake, large enough to hide a body safely inside. Can you guess what type of body I'm talking about, neh? Oh, yes – absolutely _amusing._

Don't you just love my sarcasm so far? No? Aw, I think I'm supposed to feel disappointment at this point… nope, I'm just not feeling it. Pity.

"Ah!" Inhaling sharply I cursed in my colourful language, my foot slipping against slick grass causing me to lose my footing and tumble swiftly forward. Only, the impact from soft grass seemed to take a little longer than it should have on a flat surface; my breath seemed to be taken away on impact with the dark ground, my arms hitting painfully on my forehead before I began to roll down a steep hill.  
Eyebrows furrowing in confusion my hands groped for some form of purchase, though my increasing momentum on the slick grass and occasional painful rock seemed to disagree with this, causing my fingers to push through grass and then come away, momentum barely even stalled.

I admit that once in my life, hills were mountains; the highest peak where I had claimed that I could see myself from, the highest peak where I played 'king of the hill' and tried to spot a star that might be visible through smog. That was Saskatchewan, Canada for you – flat praries with the occasional hills, grass, farms, and guess what? More grass!  
Short story short, it had been boring; now that I am falling down what felt like a slick mountain I realize that my hate for grass is probably going to sky rocket. Heh; isn't it amusing what your brain comes up with at moments of shock?

When my side came in contact painfully with a large rock before virtually flying off of it, time momentarily slowed down just for me. My rogue ninja headband soon forgotten, fallen from my neck caught my eye as it fell away in mid-turn in the air, fiery red hair the color of blood obscuring my vision before I got a got look of what will catch me and break my fall. Arms raised to protect my head as if through instinct I brought my knees to my chest, deep blackness greeting my emerald orbs in such a welcoming way that I almost found myself w_anting_ to continue my fall.

Almost.

The blackness that seemed so inviting now seems to be my worst nightmare; shuddering, wet cold enveloped me and pushed on me from all sides, soaking my Kushina cosplay uniform and causing my hair to flow in such a way that I might've mistaken it for blood if it hadn't been touching my now-cold skin. The contact of sudden, abrupt cold left me breathless, forcing air out of my lungs only for the transparent, fleeting bubbles to rise towards the surface quickly as if seeking escape that seemed to evade me quickly.

Today just isn't my day, now is it?

Somewhere deep within my mind I realized that I should swim towards the surface in the direction that is _away_ from the shore closest to me, but when I pushed my hair out of my face I realized that _finding_ where the shoreline resides might just be harder than it sounds; silver, eerily beautiful moonlight filters through calm waters, my idle arms a white that looked unnatural compared to my usual tanned complexion. It was as though I had entered a world of silver light and heavy blackness pressing coldly around my body, the silvery, eerie light offering no solace inside the liquid blackness.

In a way this situation could be considered beautiful, if not inspiring if I hadn't felt an imaginary tight band constrict around my lungs, hinting at the fact that I hadn't spontaneously sprouted gills and I probably won't anytime soon. I needed air; and quickly.  
If I could've remained down here forever I would've; caught in between darkness and silvery, awe inspiring light with solitude pressing on all sides called to me in a way that I might look back on and find ridiculous. Though, you have to wake up eventually, don't you? Arms groping upwards towards the surface I had to bite my lip roughly to refrain from letting anymore air out of my lungs, the little imaginary band constricting tighter and tighter while I pushed upwards towards the surface.

Only, it didn't seem as though I'd get that far anytime soon.

Abruptly slick, warm bands moved to wrap around my legs to my ankles, their weight dragging me downwards towards the dark abyss below me. Frantically struggling my emerald green orbs widened in surprise before flickering to confusion, not understanding what had taken me captive. At first I thought that my pursuer had finally caught up with me while I had stood at a standstill underwater, but the feeling of these bands were too thin and too long to be hands. They tightened like living and independent muscle around my lower limbs as if preparing to do something, that _something_ turning out to be sharp pains in my already numb legs similar to how you'd expect fangs to feel like.

Looking down I realized that was exactly what happened; two long and slim snakes had coiled their way around my legs, white heads pressing uncomfortably against my calf and thigh to sink their fangs inside of my numb skin. The one at my thigh seemed to watch me with almost human intelligence before I blacked out, its unnaturally teal eyes watching me before it did something that probably could put the Cheshire Cat to shame.

It smiled.

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**For those who love gothic rock/metal, check out "One Without" – they're unpopular but they're amazing. They have an Evanescence and We Are The Fallen type of sound combined with a strong female singer. ^^ The band is hard to find by just typing in the name so type in one of their songs, such as "Solitude" or "Distance Inbetween"**

**Hooray for chapter one… *Insert cheer here.* Anyway, if you're a fan of this type of Fanfiction then you can probably guess what the snakes symbolize. Or more importantly, **_**who.**_** Unfortunately for Oro fanpeoples, he won't be showing up in the fanfic until later on; I'll explain what happened in the next chapter. Until then, chao!**


	2. When The Dead Walk

_**Unmei Hiku  
**_**"Destined to Fade" - **_**but to where?**_

Despite the humidity and relentless sun, the Konohagakure citizens still walked outside. It was a normal occurrence for heat to surface in the bright yet beautiful city, for the people to walk outside even when air conditioning seemed much better, swathed in light clothing to keep their bodies from becoming overheated. The features that were visible in the glare of sunlight were either pale or dark skinned, skin that would either get burnt or tan further underneath the warm Konohagakure sun.  
With sunlight refracting off of earthly coloured buildings, it gave the village a surreal appearance of peace. Really, the idea of Konoha having a certain something called "The Will of Fire" wasn't very hard to believe on this particular day. Not too far off from the toweringly impressive gates of the village that reached up into the sky, the wind could also be considered pleasant. The wind was not too strong and not too weak – enough to make slight ripples on the surface of a slow flowing stream, enough to make the massive trees of the forest sway to and fro.

The forest of the Hidden Leaf Village was slightly exotic. The trees towered over those who walked underneath their ancient boughs, swaying ever so slightly to a breeze that could be considered calming. To a foreigner, this forest could be considered enchanting – not quite as enchanting as the Kusagakure forest, but enough to get willingly lost in. In truth these trees have stood for thousands of years, rooted to place to endure battles and wars of the past.  
The forest surrounding the small clearing was deathly silent. The black haired girl tried to shrug off this fact and dismiss it as nothing, as though the forest hadn't reacted to unrealistic actions before. The residing creatures surrounding the clearing of the recent sparring match had either taken cover, or ran altogether to flee into the towering and massive trees. With high boughs of vivid green playing dancing shadows upon the ground hundreds of meters below, one would think that someone had died here and chased away all life. What else could you call it? The only sound that could be heard was the rustle of leaves in the wind, above grass and greenery that reached towards the light.

The most disturbing part was the silence that came with the area. No chirping of birds, and no sounds of large animals on the prowl – it was the silence before a storm, though the storm had already come to pass. The animals reacted to the dead coming back to life, though a particular black haired female tried to ignore such a fact. Could the dead be ignored so easily? Only moments before she had given them a second chance at life, though to state such a thing would be life – what the pale girl had done could be considered slavery. She didn't give them a second chance at life. She merely gave them breath and nothing more, with nothing more to physically be capable of offering. And now as they lay on the ground with torn skin and blood splattered, decaying skin, the Okinaga girl only wished that she had come at a different approach.  
To say that she does not enjoy the dead would be a lie. In truth, some part of her is excited from being surrounded by them. Content with them avoiding her and the dead slaying Lireal on her back, she paid them no heed until she had to call on them. The necromancer merely accepts they exist, and nothing more until she sees the chance arise in the heat of a battle she does not want to fight.

With black kunoichi boots resting gently on the soft and slightly damp surface of grass, Kyou's face was not masked at all. She never wore a mask anymore – once upon a time oh-so long ago the Okinaga kunoichi had wore that mask, though now she saw no point. With black hair tied back behind her head in a loose ponytail, strands of hair hung over her ghastly pale face - really, she didn't care about appearances or keeping her ponytail 100% perfect. If someone noticed her, they might even say she looked pretty - relying on no makeup to make her appearance look better, simply remaining with the ghastly - almost sickly - pale skin of an Okinaga and her violet eyes that resided beneath her short cropped bangs.

She pushed those short cropped bangs out of her face, violet eyes darting from tree to tree in anticipation. Her breathing wasn't at all that careful, her lungs constricting from being forced to take in short, small breaths – she couldn't help but believe that the battle wasn't over. In fact there was no battle, merely an assault that she had reacted to in an uncharacteristic fashion. She could be considered shy and timid; though in a burst of passion at the shock of being attacked Kyou had done something she swore never to do. Kyou raised the dead once more, the only warning that she had witnessed being the sight of a ghost being vacuumed into the tree line, viewed by her kumori activated eyes.  
It hadn't been long until the dead rose.

The attacker had receded into the forest, wounded after battling with the timid kunoichi. As a pacifist, she would have never attacked him on her own – how could she? His face seemed to be so kind, except for the criss-cross of a long ago battle scar on the tip of his narrow chin. After battling with his puppets, Kyou wasn't so sure of his kindness now. Her shoulder burned from the shock of being grazed with a blade, one of the few weapons of the marionette's that had not been coated in poison. Nibbling her lower porcelain lip nervously she bent down lower in a crouch, the sound of her heart hammering in her ears evident – a booming bass that Kyou could only hope was inaudible to the marionette.  
Where had he gone? Unsure of the answer to that, Kyou could only guess. He had stumbled into the tree line after feeling the force of Kyou's undead, most likely to retaliate. It had been seconds after when Kyou had not heard a sound from him that she began to get worried – did he run? The only thing she had on her side was the undead and her genjutsu, a style of fighting that Kyou loves – confusing senses to imitate pain without having to actually inflict physical harm.

_There had been a light,_ Kyou recollected. The light was not anything spectacular – but it coloured Kyou's world an unearthly white, as though the entire world had been inverted to stark white and a greenish black. The colour of sickness, the colour that one would think could be associated with unhealth – in that brief moment, the trees had become purple and Kyou's pale skin had become black. A moment when the shy kunoichi couldn't even be certain of its existence.  
_But it happened… didn't it…? _She had never heard of him since, after waiting in her spot for five minutes. Maybe waiting had not been a great idea at all – she left herself wide open, despite her caution. Feeling quite silly at that moment Kyou clumsily got back up on her feet, short limbs raising to their full height – giving the shy kunoichi a short 5'0" and climbing. Maybe she could take a look. Hopefully she wouldn't meet a corpse… or worse.

Her unruly hair swayed slightly in its ponytail while she walked towards the location of the previous light, her violet eyes blinking nervously. If it proved to be a trap, the marionette must have the largest attention span ever – definitely not possessing Kyou's ADHD. Feeling her palms becoming a little sweaty beneath the stark white of her wrappings, she instinctively wiped her palms off on her dress. What if something jumped out at her? In a world of shinobi and people who can walk on water, nothing is impossible as long as you have the will to achieve it.  
Biting her lower lip nervously she fidgeted before peering out from behind the rough bark of one of the ancient trees of Konohagakure, squeezing her eyes together to brace herself. Maybe she would see gore. Maybe she would see something utterly horrible. Cracking open her eyes after taking in a deep breath, Kyou almost stumbled back and fell over at what she saw.

There was no dark haired man with a scar on his face. Laying with limbs outstretched haphazardly in deep sleep was a freckled teenager about Kyou's age, with the reddest hair the shy kunoichi has ever seen.

**Awesome news! These last few months have been crazy, and it's only now that I bothered to enter in a new chapter – but I had gotten a poem accepted by my province's writing guild and I got it published! Plus, I got an award for it. Second time being published! :D**


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